


Goodbye Until Tomorrow

by wesawbears



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Last five years au, M/M, and background ships, other characters as it goes along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-02-17 04:18:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13068975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesawbears/pseuds/wesawbears
Summary: Enjolras and Grantaire's relationship is all but over, and both are left reeling for where it went wrong. Enjolras looks from the end to the beginning and Grantaire from beginning to end. Told in alternating POVs, Last Five Years style.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been toying with the idea of a Last Five Years AU for a while now, and have finally worked up the courage to post it. This is the first time I've written them, so hopefully it's good. Enjoy!

Enjolras stood in his- he shook his head. This was Grantaire’s room now. He was folding his last shirt into his suitcase so he could move in with Combeferre and Courfeyrac until he could find another place. He wipes at his face and wonders not for the first time in the last few days how they got here. It was one fight.

“One fight out of how many?” his mind supplies unhelpfully. It was true, he supposed. They fought more often than the rest of the couples he knew, but none of their fights had felt serious. They pissed each other off, but they never lasted more than a night apart and they never meant it.

But then everything had piled up, with Enjolras at work all the time and Grantaire drinking, and everything they thought they could handle until they couldn’t. It had ended with both of them yelling and saying things they hadn’t meant, and Enjolras thought it would blow ever. But then Grantaire hadn’t come home for three days and the only way he’d managed to even find out he was okay was by texting Eponine, who’d informed him that he was at her place, sober. “No thanks to you.”

His relief only lasted until the next morning, when he came out to the kitchen to see Grantaire leaning against the counter, just like he did every morning. But when Enjolras leaned in to kiss him, relieved, he turned so he hit his cheek.

Enjolras pulled back, trying to not look as wounded as he felt. He still felt the vulnerability in his voice as he said, “Taire?”

Grantaire sighed. “We should talk.”

Enjolras crossed his arms across his chest, hoping he looked serious instead of like he was holding himself together. Grantaire had a way of looking at him and making him feel out of control, like right was left and his brain didn’t do what he told him to do around him. It was uncomfortable when things were good, so having that look directed at him now was less than pleasant. “We are talking.”

Grantaire ran his hand through his hair. “I think we need some time apart.”

Enjolras felt vaguely like the floor was dropping from under him. “R-if this is about what I said, you know I didn’t mean it-”

“We’’re not good together.”

He bit back a scoff. “You’re figuring this out now?”

Grantaire didn’t answer him, so he knew struck a nerve. He sighed and said, softer, “I wasn’t the only one who said things.”

Grantaire twirled his empty coffee cup in his hands, a habit he has when he’s trying to figure out something to say. “We’re keeping score now?” he mumbled. “It must be rare that I get a mark showing I actually said something that cracks marble.”

“You created that pedestal, not me.”

When Grantaire stayed uncharacteristically silent, Enjolras felt some of last night’s anger return to him. “So that’s it? You’re not even going to try?”

Grantaire sighed. “You’re the one who said I don’t try at anything. Incapable of believing, remember? Don’t blame me for rising to the occasion.”

He knew the conversation was over when he looked at Grantaire and realized he had absolutely nothing to say. They decided after that that it would be best for Enjolras to stay elsewhere for the time being, leading to now, with his whole life packed up in bags and no one to blame but himself.

He ran his hand over the newly made bed and choked back a sob. He couldn’t cry. He had to deal with this. “Goodbye. I’m sorry,” he whispered and headed out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Grantaire considered himself a lot of things, but prone to stress was not one of them. He tended to take life as it came. Why worry about tomorrow when there was today to think about? He didn’t think this way out of a sense of optimism, but rather a sense of not knowing, and not being inclined to presume to know. Any number of things could cause his plans to crash and burn. It was better, then, to deal with what lay directly in front of him.

And what lay directly in front of him at the current moment was his first date with Enjolras. So, uncharacteristically, he was stressed.

He still didn’t quite know what Twilight Zone he’d entered that had led to Enjolras asking him out, but he certainly wasn’t going to question it or complain. He’d been running over the image of Enjolras asking him over and over in his mind. If the other man had been nervous, he managed to cover it up by looking thoughtful, his mouth twisting just so. Honestly, everything about Enjolras was “just so” it seemed.

Grantaire ran a hand through his hair. There was very little he could to embarass himself over coffee, right? His mind helpfully supplied him with all manner of things that could go wrong over coffee, but he ignored the thoughts and made his way to the cafe’ they’d agreed to meet at.

At first, he assumed he must be early. He’d never been early to anything in his life, he’d often boasted, but maybe he’d just been so keyed up at the prospect of this date that he’d managed it? After half an hour of waiting, though, he was positive he’d been stood up. Enjolras was annoyingly punctual, so if this had been of any import to him, he’d be here.

Grantaire made his way up to the counter and mopily asked for another coffee to go. He needed to leave and pour as much whiskey as possible into his drink.

“No show?” Eponine asked, with her customary lack of sympathy.

“He could have at least texted. He would have texted,” Grantaire replied dismally.

She patted his hand and opened her mouth to say something, but abruptly closed it and raised an eyebrow. Grantaire followed her gaze and was greeted with the sight of Enjolras, looking uncharacteristically but delightfully disheveled. He blew a flyaway hair out of his face, which looked flushed.

Grantaire smirked. “This all for me?”

Enjolras’ lips turned down in that disapproving way they did, but Grantaire also detected a slight blush, which was certainly interesting.

“I got...stuck.”

A beat passed. “Stuck.”

Enjolras tucked a stray curl behind his ear, managing to look imperious as he did so. “I got locked in my bathroom. Ferre had to get me out.”

Grantaire managed to choke back his laugh, but Eponine let out a snort. Enjolras attempted a glare, but it looked too much like a pout for Grantaire to take it seriously. It was impossibly endearing.

“Do I want to know how?” 

Enjolras, to his surprise, finally cracked and laughed. “I’ll tell you the whole sordid tale, I suppose. But first, coffee. I ran here.”

Grantaire’s heart lurched. “You did?”

Enjolras smiled and any trace of timidness that had crept into his face melted away. “We had a date.”

Their hands brushed reaching for the coffees and Grantaire knew he was gone.


End file.
